Monday, February 28, 2005

This Is a Test

Just a test, and nothing more, to see if the Google AdSense ads I have listed on my sidebar will change, depending on what things I mention in my most recent post.

Under no circumstances should anyone feel ... pressured... to click on the ads, and please don't worry that by NOT doing so you will be taking food straight out of my children's mouths. Really, this is just a test, and not a request to click on any ads, despite how very interesting and intriguing they are, and how much you really want need the quality products that are offered.

Testing starts ... NOW.

Nike shoes.
Reebok shoes.
Birkenstocks ... shoes.
Rolex anything.
Pasta makers.
Llama porn.
Seinfeld dvd.
Small people.

Thank you for your time, and may God bless you for no particular reason.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Yes, Mommy Dearest.

The last few posts over at Chez Miscarriage have been about 'Mommy Drive-By's', where well-meaning (and often, not-so-well-meaning) people have made nasty, insulting, or just dumb as shit comments regarding another mother's parenting choices. There was a very long comment thread, where she asked mothers to share their stories, and it seemed that everyone was getting along famously, with nary an assface in the bunch.

Turns out, in order to keep things going along smoothly, the nasty comments were being diligently deleted as soon as they popped up. There's your proof, if you ever needed it, that there are people with balls bigger'n their brains, to post snotty remarks in a thread criticizing snotty remarks. One of the letters received came from a highly enlightened person that I would love to go out for coffee with and then run over in the parking lot with my car. She detailed how, so often, she never said a word about the highly dangerous things she saw other mothers doing to their children, such as piercing their ears, letting them outside without mittens on, or letting newborns breathe outside a plastic bubble before 4 months of age. Ok, so I'm exaggerating a bit, but she's still an assface.

So, in light of this post, I'd like to share how I'm an unfit mother, and encourage others (mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, friendly neighbors with a beard, are all welcome) to follow suit. And when the trolls come, and I'm sure they will, we can dress 'em all in polyester leisure suits and feed 'em to the Fug Girls. Or, something involving nipple clamps and battery cables. We'll see.

Moving on!

Unfit mother because:

I let my daughter stay in her pajamas all day long.
My son has to pour his own cereal in the mornings before school.
I breastfed both my kids. I also bottlefed both my kids.
I let them run around with no socks on under their shoes, and let them run around the house barefoot.
I have watched shows, in my son's presence, that contain several 4-letter words.

I have more, but I'm too riddled with shame and tequila to continue.


Sunday, February 20, 2005

Who's This SAM Person?!?

For those of you who doubt my greatness, may I present ... MY THEME SONG.

Neener, neener, NEENER!

Friday, February 18, 2005

I Know Why the Caged Bird Gets All Liquored Up

It's a short trip from 'Gainfully Unemployed' to 'Kleenex Box Wearing Pasty Faced Antisocial Freak.' This has absolutely nothing to do with me ... I'm just saying.

When I'm not pretending that I'm a serious writer by playing online Bingo, I'm very busily cleaning residual small person goo from the tabletops, and clearing residual small person goo off the floors, and wiping residual small person goo from the residual small person. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't find running a household, taking care of my family and raising my children fulfilling ... even though there is no adult conversation all day and how can 4 people make so much fucking laundry and how many times can they play that fucking Barney show before the television bursts into flames and where the hell is my hairbrush and isn't your father home yet and oh dear god I've turned into a human cliche haven't I?

This post would be a lot longer, but can't I my fingers feel anymore.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

Next Step - One of Them Movin' Picture Boxes

I have dry clothes. I have dry clothes that came from a machine that actually stops when it says it will, and doesn't leave my hallway smelling like the Ampitheatre after a Guns and Roses concert. (Because there's a lot of smoke during a concert ... and my dryer was ... oh, never mind.)

There's even a nice, rather soothing humming noise coming from it, instead of the previous 'frozen turkey rolling around in a metal garbage can' medley.

Which, I've heard, was one of Axl Rose's first musical influences.

(Oh, and speaking of turkeys in appliances, I'm pretty sure this had to be the result of a Thanksgiving day that went horribly, horribly wrong.)

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

How's This For Some Reality?

The clothes dryer is smoking. Obviously, this is not normal clothes dryer-type activity. Normal clothes dryers dry clothes, hence the name. This is what this one used to do, even if it took up to 3 days to finish drying a fucking load of towels, even after we'd hung half of them around the living room and kitchen to dry, a la Hee-Haw, and they ('they' being the maintenance crew of one guy with more hair than brains) have looked at/muddled with/fixed/replaced the damn thing again and again.

Now, it's smoking. I have to call them again, and let them come into my Hee-Haw soundstage of an apartment, and resist slamming their head in the dryer door if they make any tsk-tsk noises with their tongue, because I have laundry strung around my apartment like white trash party decorations, because I can't use the dryer BECAUSE IT'S SMOKING.

But, on the plus side, I have found out that Hee Haw is produced by Gaylord Entertainment, which is just humor in a convenient travel sized carrying case. Say it with me:


See? Yee-haw.

Saturday, February 12, 2005

A Few Answers (Probably More Than Four)


1) What freakin' state do you live in?

I have been in a state of panic, I once was in a state of euphoria, (but that was in what should have been my college years), and now I am pretty much always in a state of disarray.

(Aw, c'mon, you HAD to be expecting that answer.)

2) What's with all the goddamn secrecy?

Why? What have you heard?!? WHO'S BEEN TALKING ABOUT ME?!?

3) Enough with the personal questions. When was the first day of your last period?

All I have to say on this subject is I am NOT PREGNANT.

4) Tell us every good idea for a story or a novel that you've ever had in as much detail as possible.

Gone on the Downdraft-An epic tale of a spoiled Southern belle who marries unwisely and frequently, all the while pining away for some pasty faced Nancy-Boy with the stamina and personality of boiled cabbage. Then there's a war, a city burns to the ground, and everybody dies.

The Business Trip-A man goes on an extended business trip, an 'odyssey', if you will, and faces numerous trials and tribulations to get back to his wife and family. Then there's a war, a city sinks to the bottom of the ocean, and everybody moves to Detroit, where they all die.

Charlotte's Wig-A talking pig befriends a head louse who lives in an alopecia sufferer's wig, and the head louse tries to save the pig's life by 'writing' advertising slogans in the wig, and the wearer sells the advertising space on eBay. Nobody moves, the auction closes at $24,000, but the pig still dies.


1) Was the last fuck necessary in that sentence?

Fuck if I know.

2) Could you avert a hostile takeover of a skyscraper ala John McClane in Die Hard?

Yes, but I'd need a lot more duct tape and a lot less bleeding.

3) Did you get tired after writing that long post?

I'll tell you after my nap.

4) If you got to eat with Boy George, what would you order?

Taquitos, a sandwich, and a diet Coke.


1) where are my taquitos?

Right here. YES, that is what they are supposed to look like, and NO, there is no 'funny smell.'

2) What goes in taquitos?

I'll tell you AFTER you eat them.

3) Which of the 5 "Thin Man" movies was the best?

The one when he almost died from eating poisoned taquitos.

4) Who played the Thin Man?

Some dead guy.


1) How much money have you made from your cafe press store? (just noticed the link)

Well, that depends on how much you spent.

2) Would you save MPH or Pops from a burning building?

Whoever has the taquitos.


I like taquitos.

You can't say "neither."

Yes, I can, I just did, and this is not a question, so you're out of the band.

3) Are the Twos really Terrible?

Well, if you discount the flame throwers, death threats, and the boogers ... Naw!

4) Do you have any cat photos?

This is technically your 5th question, so I'm not allowing it. However, since it involves cats, I'm letting you back in the band.


1) Are you ever going to fucking finish The Fellowship of the Ring?

I fucking hope so, but I don't fucking think so.

2) The song "I Hope You Dance:" nausea inducing or teary eyed gem?

If the song were renamed 'I Hope You Choke on Your Own Bile' it might qualify as nausea inducing. However, since it isn't, it's just a pile of over-sentimental crap.

3) What was the name and address of your last employer?

BastardCo, 123 Bastards Way, Bastardia, ME 01812

4) What's the deal with Cliff Claven?

I'd tell you, but I'm pretty sure the US Postal Service and Carla the waitress would have me killed and shipped to Cambodia.


1) Did you give candy to your kids before dinner?

No, because candy was their dinner.

2) Did you take a shower today?

Do you mean today today or today when the question was first posted today? Either way, I'm not telling.

3) Why do I attract people to come and cry in front of me?

The giant target you have tattooed on your forehead.

4) Is there any idea on how to remove the pouches under the eyes? would really like to know.

Yes, I'm sure there are.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

A Few Things (Could be Four)

First, thanks to Derek, for listing me as one of his favorite blogs here, and also kinda pushing me to actually write something here.

So, true to (late) form, I'm not going to write my own stuff, I'm going to steal an idea that was stolen from someone else, on a blog link that I bummed from another blog. I'd tell you who was responsible for what, but I don't want my kneecaps broken. And because I can't remember where I saw it.

Here's my idea which was stolen from a blog that I have never visited which was stolen from a blog that I have visited only because I saw the link on a blog that I have visited more than the blog that stole the idea that I stole from them. I think.

Yeah, here we go:
Ask me 4 questions. I will answer these questions. I may even answer them truthfully, but don't hold your breath. No, I said DON'T hold your breath ... oh, dammit, now I need to call 911, don't I?

And one last thing: Is it just me, or am I speaking in another language when I say "You can't have candy till after dinner?" I'm just wondering, and would really like to know before my head explodes all over the monitor.

*Addendum: I will answer all the questions in a day or two (translation: whenever I feel like it, unless I forget or get trapped under something heavy) in a separate post.

Friday, February 04, 2005

Open Letter to my Upstairs Neighbors, Before I Go Up There With a Sledgehammer and a Smile:

The fucking cake frosting isn't GOING ANYWHERE, THERE'S NO NEED TO RUN.

Nowhere To Go But Out (of the Closet)*

I may have nothing to talk about, I may not be able to make up anything, either, but at least I'm not a completely gay skeleton who resides alone, somewhere in the desert...

(Oh, and if anybody happens to see my imagination, please return it to me. Quickly. Because I just can't live like this, anymore.)

*I could also add a little joke here about "Is this what they mean, about skeletons in the closet?", but what would be the point, really?


Thursday, February 03, 2005

Open Letter to the Employees and Shoppers at the Grocery Store Who Pushed Past Me While I Was Balancing a Gallon of Milk and a Child on Both Arms:


Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Google Me This ... Again

Just some of the more odd, intriguing, and bizarre Google searches leading here:

It's Not a Good Thing, or What Happens When Martha Stewart Finally Loses Her Mind.

This is What Happens When Porky, Babe and Wilbur Access the Internet Unsupervised.